<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>2 Million Pounds For Slapping The Couple Once, They Become Billionaire With This by NanliZ</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24774760">2 Million Pounds For Slapping The Couple Once, They Become Billionaire With This</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/NanliZ/pseuds/NanliZ'>NanliZ</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>2 Million Pounds For Slapping The Couple Once, They Become Billionaire With This [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Peaky Blinders (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - 1990s, M/M, Warrior Parody</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 08:20:46</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,399</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24774760</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/NanliZ/pseuds/NanliZ</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>In this story, (almost) everyone is MMA fighter. They just gotta fight, including Tommy who wants to win something back from Alfie.<br/>Fuck I wrote this summary for whatever, just ignore this and read the story. THX.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Tommy Shelby &amp; Alfie Solomons</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>2 Million Pounds For Slapping The Couple Once, They Become Billionaire With This [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1791793</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I saw a meme asking what would happen if your ship can get 2 million dollar or whatever cash for slapping each other in the face, and I thought that "haha, my ship can become billionaires by doing this all day even though they are rich enough already". And since I finished watching Warrior(2011) and got disgusted by the ending, I decided to write a similar kind of story to throw the fuck against it.<br/>Unfortunately, I wrote this in Chinese. I could've just post it as it was, but I don't trust your translator. SO, I did that for you, even though my English is fucking bad.<br/>ENJOY.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was night. The jet black Porsche 911 turned off Lawley Middleway and down Garrison Lane, the noise of its four-cylinder engine tearing through the bars on both sides of the street as it headed toward the sound asleep neighborhood. Even in the northern part of England her disposition seemed rather useless. After a long, tiresome idling, she paused in front of one of the stereotyped rowhouses, sighed, and put out the headlights.<br/>
The first thing Tommy did when he pulled the handbrake was to pick up the cigarette that was lying next to him and knock a cigarette out of the bottom of the carton, replacing the one he had just smoked. After blowing the first puff of smoke to make sure that it has been lighted, he slowly opened the door and stretched out his legs to get off.<br/>
As he locked the door, he saw the man sitting in the doorway, two feet of the man, to be exact, two steps below where he was sitting, and two bare legs up in the streetlight -- a little hard to look at in a pair of shorts in such weather. He recognized the boxing shoes as those belong to his brother Arthur.<br/>
"I thought you were in London." Tommy said after taking a puff.<br/>
Arthur didn't answer, and Tommy couldn't see his face because it was in the shadow of his hoodie. But shadows don't shut people up, and the perpetrators was now obvious, for he had come out of the shadow on the porch behind Arthur and were within the reach of the streetlight.<br/>
Tommy's first reaction was, "This is a Jew." The man had that hat with wide brim on his head, the huge beard on his face and the long black suit. He immediately realized that this was not simply a Jew--<br/>
He was surrounded by three or four men of similar appearance. These men were coming from the opposite side of the narrow street. Then he raised his face to the man who was pointing his walking stick against Arthur, and his voice went up too.<br/>
"What can I do for you?"<br/>
"Guess what, I'm just passing through." His blurry accent made Tommy frown. "Purposefully passing by to meet you for a drink. Well, I can't drink it either."<br/>
Tommy didn't answer, but he put his cigarette in his mouth, one hand grabbed the other, stood on two feet apart, and buttoned his toes inwardly.<br/>
"Nice car." Said the Jew again.<br/>
"Thank you."<br/>
"When I'm in the South, I've been told that there's a retired fighter, who fell in love with some fancy car in the north and I've come to see them because I don't believe in such relationship since they're such a pair. You have a nice house, by the way. I thought you were going to live in a carriage in the Birmingham countryside when Arthur first told me about this. " He paused. "Can't believe it's true, Tommy Shelby."<br/>
He did not feel at all that his last words were ambiguous, or that he was at all unseemly in calling him by his first name, but he went on, very broadly, "You must feel sorry that I heard about you like this. After all, I also went to inquire about it, I did not realize that you do have some fame in this circle. Some, indeed. So, just to apologize, I've brought some gift to show my sincerity."<br/>
As he spoke, he magically took two bottles from the inside pockets of his coat, one from each side. He must have no room for the Hebrew Bible, Tommy thought for no reason.<br/>
The Jew raised his left hand and said, "This is whiskey with an ‘e’, for business." Then he lowered his left hand and raised his right. "And Rum is for fun and fucking. What do you think?"<br/>
Tommy took the butt out of his mouth, flicked once and put it back. "Let's talk first, eh?"<br/>
"Very well, whiskey it --"<br/>
"I say, let's talk first."<br/>
By this time, Tommy was at the bottom of the steps. If it wasn't the Jew that stood across the front of him,  his brother would be just at his feet. And there are other two behind him. But they are as good as nonexistence, like the cold and damp air, once get used to it, or take a few more drinks, it just don't matter.</p><p>'Let's get down to business, Mr Solomons.'</p><p>Mr. Solomons, the Jew put down his hand, and slowly slide the alcohol back into his pockets. Tommy could see clearly now that his triangular eyes were gouged into his face under the brim of his hat like an anchor thrown into the silt in the bottom of the canal. He blinked his eyes slowly, took the last puff, and threw the cigarette butt away. He watched the Jew take off his hat in the street. There was no other round hat under it, and his fierce face was fully visible. His lips were blurred under his beard, but he murmured loudly enough:</p><p>"Suit yourself."</p><p>tbc.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Tommy glanced at the man in his way, then withdrew his gaze. After that, he took a step aside, unperturbed, to brush Solomons up the steps, whom was lifting Arthur. He hung his head, slowly identifying the key in the shadow formed by the ring of people, and it took him some time to poke it through the keyhole. The Jew stood behind him, with a thud rolling in his throat, and finally said:<br/>
"What are you opening, the gate of time and space?"<br/>
He did not answer, but pulled open the door in the middle of Solomon's speech, and turned to hold it reverently. He followed at last, with a faint smile, as though the Jew's face had been smacked against the door. After pressing the light switch by the door, he, the master of the room, walked through the crowd in the porch and said:<br/>
"Come in please. Make yourself at home in the drawing-room."<br/>
Solomons, who was dangling Arthur with just one hand, was the only one who followed him graciously and put the man down on the sofa like a suitcase, while the other three remained in the porch, holding the door firmly behind them. Until this moment, Tommy had never realized that his brother was so light.<br/>
"I like what you've done with the place." The Jew laid his ringed hand on the back of Arthur's single sofa with a square of Bohemian tassel."I thought I'd see a crystal ball."<br/>
"You disappointed?"<br/>
This time it was Arthur. Tommy recognized that he was having a particularly difficulty speaking, but didn't say anything about it. "Arthur, sounds like you've got the whole story out about us being Gypsies again."<br/>
"Yes, that's what he said." When Solomons interposed, Tommy looked back at his face. "I thought you might want to ask when he said it, but it doesn't fucking matter. Because he got fucked, and lost his face. Don't stare at me, there's nothing to look at on this old ugly face. Look at this."<br/>
He said, pulling Arthur's hoodie down by the tip, and holding his face up by his hair so that the overhead light fell on it. Even Tommy would have been horrified: Arthur's grey hound face was now swollen to two times of its original size, almost make him doubt that the shell have cracked like the chocolate-chip crust of a Popsicle beneath the facial muscle it's supporting, and the melted inner layer tainted his face brownish red. The mustache on his upper lip, which soaked in blood, was now clumping and sticking ugly to it. When the Jew let go, Arthur's thin neck seemed to be unable to support the twice as large head and let it lean askew against the pillow.<br/>
Tommy raised one eyebrow. The Jew then said, "Sorry to mess up your couch, but aren't you surprised? But you see, it's kind of like what he did to the child, but it's the same extent as the number of the lamb left for Laban compared to that of Jacob had taken away. Perhaps you want me to tell you the story?"<br/>
Tommy flipped the cover of the Bible on the coffee table nearby. "No."<br/>
"Thank God, I thought the brother of such a man doesn't read the Bible."<br/>
Tommy thought of two retorts, but decided not to use any of them. He coughed softly and said, "Tell me about that child."<br/>
"Are you sure you're not going to have a drink with me?"<br/>
Solomons sat down on the couch between the brothers, leaning against Arthur, but he looked as crooked as if Tommy was magnetic. When Tommy refused him again with a downturned mouth, he really moved this way.<br/>
"Don't be like this." He grabbed the empty glass from the coffee table and began pouring. "Don't be so stiff like a fucking stone."<br/>
At this point, there's probably no choice. Tommy regrets a bit that he hadn't flicked ash in the glass, but also a little glad that he hadn't. He picked up the glass, sniffed the oak and fruit, and took a small sip. As he put down his glass, Solomons spoke:<br/>
"I don't know if you know or not, but this year is kind of fucking important to us Jews, because the goddamn war is finally over. But it doesn't matter. What's dead is dead, right? So the boy, Joseph, was a good young lad just as Joseph in the book, especially for his mother. As you can see, his mother now has nothing. And what did he do? All he did was practicing with your brother."<br/>
He paused and then asked: "Don't you Birmingham people have your own gym? That you have to travel a hundred miles down to London?"<br/>
Tommy stayed silent. For a moment he lit a second cigarette and then replied equivocation, "There's an MMA competition in Liverpool in three months."<br/>
The Jew retracted his body from the arm of the sofa and sank heavily into the cushions. He was just leaning back, like an oversized stuffed Teddy bear.<br/>
"I see, I see it all. You're here to spy out the contestants down in South, aren't you?"<br/>
Tommy shook his head. "Now we have to quit."<br/>
"No, why, fucking nonsense. Don't be so upset, young man." said Solomons, laying his cane flat on his knee on the ground. "Don't tell me that this smashed strawberry pie is your competitor. Ah, it seems so."<br/>
Solomons leaned back. Tommy didn't know which expression gave him away. His face was as still as a statue, and his head was, so to speak, completely blank.<br/>
"You're probably thinking, not only did you lose the contestant, but you didn't even get to know him. Because your brother, your most precious dog, was beaten solid by all these Jews in front of you, and it was fucking disgusting."<br/>
"If you say so, Mr Solomons."<br/>
"No, because I have nothing to hide. I can also tell you that you already know what you want to know -- and that's the first thing on the list, isn't it? Because intelligence is the most important, and players don't count -- because it is the player of my club who will be taking part of the competition that put poor Arthur down like that."<br/>
Tommy looked at him silently, then looked over his shoulder to make sure the ashtray on the coffee table was positioned right so he wouldn't knock the ash into his glass.<br/>
"Thank you very much for your advice. Then I suppose you know the result."<br/>
'What do I know?" Solomons plucked at his beard and scratched his chin so Tommy could see the crown tattoo on his hand. "You wouldn't think I'd be so cruel as to yell at Arthur to punch with a neck brace, would you?"<br/>
"So you want me to switch the player."<br/>
"You little champ."<br/>
'I'm terribly sorry, Mr Solomons. Since you are so well informed, I suppose you know as well. After all, I've only been running my place for just two years, and we only have two that can fight. Arthur, you've seen him." He looked away. "The other one, my brother John. But I'm afraid he'll be out of the cage for a while. First of all, he has too many childrens, and second, his wife could probably fight even better. Or my youngest brother Finn, who just won the junior section a while ago."<br/>
Then he raised the glass to his mouth and said, "Perhaps you would like to consider recommending my sister-in-law or a brat to the organizing committee?"<br/>
To the private astonishment of all present, Solomons grinned and showed two rows of teeth through a crack in his beard.<br/>
"Seriously, Tommy?  Seriously? There's no need to put yourself in that position, is there? For Heaven's sake, whoever told me this man sitting in front of me is the best fighter in Birmingham, I'll go back and knock out half of his teeth."<br/>
"I retired. Now I'm just a manager."<br/>
"Just a manager." Solomons repeated what he had said. "Now, how long have you stopped fighting? "<br/>
Tommy didn't answer, but then he burst into a laugh. "Your days of retiring is even shorter than the time between now and the beginning of the championship. What the fuck you talking about?"<br/>
He stopped, leaned back on the arm of the sofa with a totally new face expression, and whispered, gritting his teeth, "What choice do you think you have, Mr. Shelby?"<br/>
Tommy relaxed his chin, unclenched his hand from the glass, and lowered it from the armrest. "What do you think?"<br/>
Solomons clapped his hands together.<br/>
"Thank you very much, sweetheart, for making progress at last." "He looked puzzled." You see, I'm not trying to be hard on anyone: the boy's a grown man, he's signed the papers, and the procedure can't do anything to your brother. But his mother -- I've been taking care of him and his mother for a long long time, and he was killed in my gym, and I can't just do nothing."<br/>
Tommy looked at his Mr. Good figure and did not join him in the abacus. Then Solomon continued:<br/>
"I want you to win. Then give all the money to the poor lady."<br/>
"Sounds like you're pretty sure that I will."<br/>
"Of course. You think I came all the way up here today to just give your brother back to you?"<br/>
Tommy sat quietly and looked back at the Jew who was staring at him. His brother was the first to complain about the proposal. The wounded man wriggled in his seat, and began to swear:<br/>
"You son of a bitch, don't give any more evil ideas..."<br/>
"Arthur."<br/>
Arthur shut up again, and his brother looked at Solomons' face again. The Jew raised his lips at this scene and said, "Shall I give you some time to think it over?"<br/>
"That's very generous of you."<br/>
"No hurry. But if you say no, maybe your family will never have the chance to own a place in the community -- aren't you supposed to be in this competition just for a place?"<br/>
"Looks like you care about it."<br/>
Solomons gave no answer, but got up holding the head of his crutch, and putting his hat back on his head, went past the brothers to the door.<br/>
'When your brother can walk again, tell him to come and see me in London. I have a pretty good idea when he'll be able moving, but if I don't see him then, you'll see."<br/>
"Safe trip back to London, Mr Solomons."<br/>
The Jew turned, pointed with the tip of his cane, and looked at Tommy who was staring at him with the piercing eyes.<br/>
"Just call me Alfie." He said. "No need of being so polite to your future rivals. "</p><p>tbc.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>As the last Jew closed the door, and the door-tongue clicked against the doorpost. Tommy jumped up and lounge at the phone on the wall, pulled the receiver off, twirled the dial quickly, called an ambulance, pressed the latch and called another phone.<br/>"Come to my house. Now. Quick. Arrive before the ambulance." He paused. "Tell him to come along."<br/>He hung up the phone and left the living room quickly, returning shortly with a large pack of ice and a roll of plastic wrap. He smashed the ice against the door frame several times until it broke into pieces before he went back to the sofa and knelt down. "Where?" he asked as he divided the ice into smaller packages.<br/>"Everywhere." said Arthur, taking one first and putting it over his head. “Fucking savages. “<br/>"Wanna throw up?"<br/>"Why are you doing Polly's work?"<br/>"She's on her way. Take off your clothes. You'd better tell me now, or she'll come later and scold you. '<br/>"No, I'm fine. I'm fucking fine."<br/>Arthur said so, but he couldn't get his hoodie off. Without another word, Tommy cut the collar open with a pair of scissors. With a loud crack, he tore the good old hoodie which did nothing wrong off. Then he pressed ice on his brother's black and blue body.<br/>"You might just better bury me alive in the bathtub with ice."<br/>Tommy ignored him and put the ice packs back to where they should be while he analyzed the injuries caused by Alfie. He was a little confused by these barely wiggled bruises, for Arthur was not a fish to be butchered on the ground without a fight.<br/>"What's the matter with you? Eh?" He said, "Arthur, what's the matter with you?"<br/>'I'm sorry, Tommy. I can't take the medicine the hospital prescribed, you know."<br/>"That’s not what I’m talking about."<br/>Just then the doorbell rang. He paused in his analysis and went to answer the door. He could see Polly's particularly sullen face through the cat's eye, and when he opened the door he felt the room go dark for a moment. He looked up at the porch light and said,<br/>"Good evening, Polly."<br/>"Can't you boys just leave me alone for a while?"<br/>"If you mean for you and your son." said Tommy, turning to give way to Polly, who was about to push open the door he had just opened. “No.”<br/>He looked at Michael, Polly's son, his cousin, who stood in the doorway with his mouth still closed, and then let go of the door handle. "Come in, and don't stand there like a dumb. If you said you wanted to join the sport the other day, this might be a good time."<br/>“Jesus Christ! ” Cried Polly, who had stepped into the drawing-room.<br/>"I know."<br/>Tommy stood next to Polly, followed by Michael. He turned to the half-grown boy and said:<br/>"When the ambulance comes, you'll follow Arthur to the hospital and do what you have to do." He checked Polly's unvoiced opposition. "He's an adult, or he wouldn't have run back. Go to the hospital this kind of thing is nothing like entering an octagonal cage."<br/>Michael called “Mom” just beside him, and Polly rolled her eyes and bent down to make sure again that Arthur's wound hadn’t gone wrong. To express her frustration, she refused to help when paramedics arrived. When Michael realized that he had forgotten to get into the ambulance and had bolted out the door to chase it, she sat where Alfie had just sat -- she obviously couldn't realize it either -- and took a heavy breath and asked, "What's going on?"<br/>"As you can see." Tommy sat down on the sofa, picked up the glass, saw that there was still a few drops in the bottom, and drank.<br/>Polly sprang from the back of her body. "I have eyes. Can’t you just tell me how he got punched so hard as if he’s a fucking toddler? Did he take morphine before he went on the court?"<br/>Tommy shook his head. The cigarette he left in the ashtray before Alfie left had gone out, so he lit another and said, "According to reliable sources, I'm afraid he was knocked out, then beat up followed by a full mount."<br/>'In the cage?<br/>"In the cage. If you ask me why the whistle didn't blow, I can only tell you that he killed a boy."<br/>Polly made no answer. It took a while before he said coldly: "Didn't you say nobody gets killed, Thomas?"<br/>Tommy dropped his eyes and didn't reply.<br/>“The Camden boys you said did this?”<br/>He muffled softly, and when he looked up at Polly, she was pointing her nose on her crossed fingers and imitated his muffle.<br/>"Your mother said, ‘this cleverness will kill him’, and I thought you'd be found out doing little tricks and beaten to death for your tricks in the cage."<br/>"I wouldn't have done it if I was the one who went to London."<br/>"So where did you go?" Said Polly, "How dare you let your brother go to London alone?"<br/>Tommy sighed and lifted his lifted eyes again to the ceiling lamp.<br/>"Growing up and getting annoyed with me" Polly clicked her twig-like fingers hard, "And what are you going to do about it?"<br/>"That's just what I’m about to say." Tommy flattened his head again. "I'll be away for the next three months, and you need to take care of the boxing gym."<br/>"What are you going to do? "Said Polly warily.<br/>He cleared his throat and smoked thoughtfully. "You blame me for not going to London," he replied. "It's because I've been busy with the new stadium. Now it's done and all the staff, training and lessons will be moved there by next week. I need you to keep an eye on it. Here’s the address."<br/>He took a folded piece of paper from his pocket and handed it over. Polly took it and opened it, and it became a bit harder for her to keep pulling the corner of her mouth downward. But with a serious air, she changed the subject back again. "What are you going to do?"<br/>"I was worried about what to do with the old stadium." Tommy raised his eyebrows and nodded affirmatively. "It looks good now. Charlie and Johnny Doggs can go on."<br/>"You finish your story."<br/>"I'm going to fight for Arthur."<br/>"Don't you dare say you're going back to the old field."<br/>"You said it for me, Polly."<br/>"Fair enough." She held her hand up in a “what’s broken is broken” way. "You go, go. And next thing you tell me will be that the people from London asked you to do so."<br/>"No. Now it's for me."<br/>Tommy stood up, took the keys out of his pocket and began unlocking the keys to the car and the house. In the end, he thought it would be convenient to just take out the keys to the old boxing hall and place the bunch of keys on the coffee table, right next to Polly's hand.<br/>"Look at the seriousness on your face." His aunt gave a sneer.<br/>"Take care of my car. I haven't named her yet."<br/>He said, and went through the porch like a blow of wind to go out. When his shape had disappeared through the door, Polly seized the set of keys and threw them in the direction he had left. The key hit the corner and the alarm of the Porsche that was parked outside went off.</p><p>tbc.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He set off again, this time toward the more remote suburbs. Perhaps he shouldn't have left the keys with Polly, but he knew exactly what Charlie would say when he saw him driving up. So when he crossed the country road, the moon was high in the middle of the sky. He saw in the distance that the light in front of the van was still on.<br/>"Who’s that?"<br/>It could be no one else at this point but Curly. So Tommy didn't answer. He just kept walking.<br/>"My god, is that Tommy? Tommy! Tommy's here! '<br/>Curly was making such a noise that the light in the shed came on, and soon Charlie Strong, who had just fallen asleep, appeared at the door in his clothes.<br/>"Lord, this is so you."<br/>"Emergency."<br/>"It’s always emergency when it comes to you. What is it this time?"<br/>Tommy explained his purpose to them by omitting the part about Arthur being beat up. Halfway through the sentence, Curly choked out a laugh, and by the time he had finished, the man was even more amused.<br/>"Wow, Tommy, are you making a comeback?"<br/>Charlie's face was tight behind the lantern while Tommy's mouth curled in tacit approval. And Curly really burst out laughing. Charlie raised his arm several times to hold on to him, but finally waited until he stopped hiccupping:<br/>"How did you get here?"<br/>"I walked." Tommy had already fixed his smile. "Or I could have gotten here earlier."<br/>"Good for you giving up your 911." Charlie wasn't even joking. "So when are you going to start training?"<br/>"Tomorrow."<br/>"Where?"<br/>"I'm ready for the new stadium. We're still back in the same place."<br/>"Fine. Take a tent. Sleep well. Get up early tomorrow, pack the coal, and run over."<br/>Charlie went back to the van. Curly helped him out of the tent in the dark, then remembered to take the kerosene lamp off the roof of the van and stood by him, hesitating to help. Anyone who works with the Shelby family knows that Tommy will make any decision you think he's making fun, but he’ll rush straight toward the goal to prove he’s right. As now, without a word, he struck the iron bit into the ground with a hammer, and his pupils, which shrank to a minimum under the light Curly held, looked pale and fierce. At last he got up, threw his hammer at the ground in the direction of the van, making a heavy bump. Curly stammered:<br/>"I still have your training suit, Tommy! Shall I get it for you? It won't be much trouble..."<br/>'No, Curly. It's getting late." He leaned back and breathed a sigh of relief, his brow furrowed for a moment. "Well. Better get it now."<br/>With a happy answering, Curly turned and went cheerfully to unpack his bundles outside the van, returning soon with a bag. "Like I said, right, Tommy? Look, here are your sneakers..."<br/>'All right, Curly.' Tommy cut him off mercilessly as he took off his coat. "Thank you. You better get some rest."<br/>"Ok, Tommy! I'll leave the lamp for you."<br/>Curly, undisturbed happily, lifted the curtain and went out. Tommy opened the package himself, picked up the white T-shirt and shorts, and refolded them on the side of the pillow. He put his sneakers by his bunk and lay down to sleep.<br/>The next day he woke early. The wind gently lifted the heavy curtain and loosened the cloth to make a fine noise. All the birds in the field are still asleep, and there is no sound of wandering men getting up early to work. Without hesitation, Tommy got up and changed his clothes. He got out of the tent and began to load coal. The shed has no electricity and is still powered by a truckload of coal bought earlier this month. When he had unloaded a load of coal, Charlie got up and stood silent at the back of the wagon, watching his work. As Curly got out of the car with the little frying pan, Charlie pulled him back:<br/>"You go on." Poor Curly faltered as he tried to draw back, but Charlie caught him again. “Boil an extra egg."<br/>"Thanks, Charlie." Tommy said.<br/>"Stop talking nonsense. Pack up and run and hit the gate before I do."<br/>Tommy set off immediately. By the time he got there, Charlie was just leisurely pulling up the mini-truck beside him.<br/>"Your breakfast."<br/>He handed the paper bag out of the window and Tommy took it for granted. Charlie honked his horn and tugged him back. Tommy was just about to put a torn corner of bread into his mouth. Charlie didn't talk, either. He leaned his elbow against the window frame and opened his palm.<br/>"Huh?"<br/>"Take out your wine. You can't go back to the cage with that."<br/>Tommy ignored him and tucked the toast into his mouth. "Charlie."<br/>Charlie wasn't angry, and he wasn't taking his hand back either. But there's more to getting Tommy to back down than not being angry, not to mention being obedient.<br/>"You'll be all right." Charlie says.<br/>"No." He shook his head.<br/>“I fought in Ireland too, and I can understand you.” Charlie assured him again, "You'll be fine."<br/>Tommy did not contradict this time, but stood in silence, looking like a statue that would never give in another step.<br/>"No more." He said.<br/>"If you choose to remain a boxing gym owner, I don't give a fuck. But since you've chosen to come back and ask me to coach you, you better reconsider who you are." Charlie held out his hand a little more. "I watched you grow up, and I have an idea of how you fit in those pants."<br/>Tommy put his hand in his knickers pocket and pulled out a small bottle. He twisted it open and took another gulp to send the food down before handing it over. Charlie took it, looked around at the little bottle for a moment, and was amazed that such small sizes were sold these days.<br/>"Not just this one." He said mercilessly, "I know exactly what you look like down there."<br/>Tommy breathed through his nose, took the second bottle from his other pocket, and without turning his head, unlocked the door and went in.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was late at night after the training. When Charlie offered to ride back in the pickup, Tommy turned him down and went to the hospital alone. When he arrived, Michael was dozing on the arm of his chair with his round face tilted, then opened his eyes to the sound of the door opening.<br/>"Good evening, Tommy." The one lying in bed and the one sitting down said hello together.<br/>"How's it going?" said Tommy, picking up the notes at the end of the bed and turning them over. At the same time he pointed to Arthur in his neck brace. "You shut up."<br/>Then Michael realized that he was the one to answer the question. He stood up and said, "Concussions, and a few stitches on my cheek. That's all."<br/>"That's all?"<br/>"That's all, really. The doctor was shocked the same." He pointed to the two phials on the bedside table. "They were prescribed. We're done for today."<br/>"Where's your mother?"<br/>"Called and said the boxing hall wasn't closed. I'll be here in due time."<br/>"Good."<br/>Tommy said, bending over Arthur. The upper part of the bed was raised so that by light he could pull open his brother's now swollen eyelids and take a look.<br/>"Damn it, it hurts." shouted Arthur indignantly.<br/>Tommy straightened up. He looked at the chart again with raised eyebrows, then hung it back in place. "Will avenge you, stop that now. Don't talk to me about being yourself. You've lost your chance."<br/>If the pringles logo is anything to go by, it looks exactly like Arthur. To make him even angrier, his baby brother put his hand in his coat pocket and said without emotion, "I'll handle the discharge formalities for you in a week. Then I'll take you to London. "<br/>"Fuck you, are you serious?"<br/>"Polly has scolded me already for leaving you alone."<br/>"That's not the point."<br/>Michael obviously didn't know get was going on, but his lips were blank. Out of kindness, he blurted out, "The doctor says he won't be able to leave the hospital for at least two weeks..."<br/>'He'll be all right in two weeks. Before he recovers, our Arthur will be able to walk again."<br/>"Fuck, Tommy! Have you been damned?"<br/>"I'm trying to save your life, Arthur. Michael," he said, turning to his stunned cousin, "you supervise his sleep, or ask Arthur to tell you his own bedtime story."<br/>With that he turned away as if he had never been in the room ever, leaving Michael and Arthur staring at each other.<br/>"Don't ask me what I've done." said Arthur. "All you have to know is that he would do anything for his scum hall. "<br/>"Is that so. Aren't you one of the three partners?" Michael said, his mouth shrivelled and his heart was empty.<br/>Arthur was so angry that his head hurt more than it had ever done before. "Why the hell you talk the same fucking way as him?"<br/>What he did soon became known to Michael, and word spread that he was being sent to London. The difference was that the former simply let Michael say "oh" and go back to the front desk to register, while the latter let Polly swear.<br/>"He'll sell us all!"<br/>Her clamor from behind the glass walls of the office held everyone in the gym for a second. John rushed in shortly after, and as soon as he entered the house, he was clamouring to have a go in London.<br/>"Forget it." Polly was so angry but still she did not hesitate to throw cold water on it. She poked the belly of John through his T-shirt with her finger. "Is that it? I advised you not to bother your brother. In the end, if the Londoner didn't do nothing but Tommy beat you up, you'd better think of the consequences."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>In the end, no one stopped it. Polly protested by locking the keys on the Porsche that Tommy had left for her. And whatTommy did was heading upstairs, took the spare key from the study, and drove away.<br/>
Arthur was silent all the way. Had it not been for the passenger seat's lack of armrests, his clutched fingers might have been able to rip them off. As the car pulled up to the side of the road to shut down, he sat stiffly straight, as if the neck brace fixed not only his neck, but his entire spine.<br/>
Tommy sat with him for a while, and after a few seconds he breathed out impatiently. He lit his cigarette, and said after taking a couple of puffs:<br/>
"I took a special leave of absence today, and I'm hurring back and train."<br/>
"How are you doing?" said Arthur dryly.<br/>
Tommy replied dryly, "Good."<br/>
"That's good. That's great."<br/>
Tommy looked out of the window. It was still early for Camden. Tourists visiting London, students catching up on their youth on the way to school, office workers still reeling from the side effects of a wild night out -- these are all still not awake yet. The Porsche 911 was even more out of place as the recycling trucks rolled down the street.<br/>
"Don't look so bitter, Arthur, you're one step closer to having fish and chips. Get out of the car and I'll walk you in."<br/>
He pulled out the key to open the door and got off the car. He was kind enough to open the copilot's door on the left side of the car. Arthur had to turn stiffly to the door, then rest his feet firmly on the ground, and finally get to his feet.<br/>
At eight o 'clock in the morning, Salomon's boxing hall, where Arthur had been defeated, was not yet officially open for business. The lock hanging on the front door had been unlocked, but the light inside had not been turned on, and at first glance it looked as if the facilities of different weights were still asleep. Tommy pulled the door shut as if he had stepped on a trigger. From behind the empty counter rose a tired but shrewd Jewish head:<br/>
"Good morning, sir. We're not officially open yet, but if you want to register..."<br/>
"Don't bother." Tommy walked straight through the door. "I'm looking for Alfie Solomons."<br/>
The man behind the counter sprang to his feet, tall and thin. "I'm sorry, but you're looking in the wrong place."<br/>
"Put him down, Ollie. Put him down. He's only a little."<br/>
Alfie Solomons was quiet, but it was enough to get Ollie to put down the receiver he was holding in his hand before he made his way through two swinging sandbags. He did not wear the long coat, which obviously diminished his Jewishness -- hard to tell whether it was because he was a merchant or because he was a Jew -- but the white shirt with the sleeves rolled up made him look like a baker, save for the apron and the sticky flour on his hands. Tommy smiled vaguely, but with a blank expression he acquiesced in Alfie's approach and said,<br/>
"The guy dressed like a Terminator is Tommy Shelby, the brother of the guy I beat up last week."<br/>
Ollie nodded suddenly and sat down again. Tommy peered down at the snigger he was trying to hide behind the folder, then turned to the door. Arthur was still at the door.<br/>
"Arthur!"<br/>
Alfie yelled, throwing up his arms and nearly hitting Tommy on the chin. But Arthur's face, in the collar like a sunflower's in a flowerpot, crumpled like sun-dried. He raised his hand and took hold of the doorknob, squeezing it so tightly that he could literally bring up the door and turn away...<br/>
"Arthur." Tommy pulled up the hem of his windbreaker and put his hand in his pants pocket. "Come here."<br/>
His eldest brother was about to release the deformed hand of the hollow-knob. Tommy looked up and coughed softly as Arthur slowly moved towards them. Before he could speak, the landlord seized the grim-looking hand and exclaimed:<br/>
"Shalom! Arthur, Shalom!"<br/>
"Alfie." Arthur responded darkly.<br/>
Tommy looked at Arthur as if he were holding the electric stun rather than the man. He pulled his hand out of his pocket and folded it across his chest.<br/>
"I tell you, listen to me. It's important." Alfie had no intention of letting his hand go "Well, you know, I've confessed my feelings to my Own God that I'm especially sorry for the kind of thing I did to you."<br/>
Arthur looked at his brother for help. To add to his despair, all he got was tommy tilting his head to one side, his staring eyes proving that he wasn't wandering. So he let the Ring on those Jewish fingers hurt his palm.<br/>
Alfie, apparently unaware of this, continued in a loud voice:<br/>
"What I'm trying to say is that what I've done to you, I mean, these," he said, twisting his fingers in the air as if he was casting a spell on Arthur's neck brace, "are purely athletic, all right? And it's totally my fault because I broke the rules."<br/>
When he stopped speaking, only incandescent lights buzzed overhead and were muffled by his loud but still indistinct voice:<br/>
"I hereby, therefore, sincerely, as sincerely as I repent of my own god, pay you a little debt of mine: my apologies."<br/>
Suddenly the face, almost close to Arthur's ear, turned to Tommy, who was watching, and said, "How's this?"<br/>
"Ask Arthur."<br/>
Tommy said this, staring blankly at his brother, who was asking for help, as if once Arthur said no, he would beat him to the punch and blow his back teeth away in the first place.<br/>
Arthur was about to cry now. In front of him, is his younger brother who had sold him off, standing by is the Jew waiting for the seller to pay up and count the money, and surrounded by boxers who could smell a joke. At last he was obliged to twist his whole body round to face Solomon, and said, through clenched teeth:<br/>
"You are forgiven."<br/>
So Tommy dropped his arm and, at the same time, Alfie let Arthur go. He clapped his hands and made a loud, clear sound that did not match his teddy bear appearance.<br/>
"Beautiful. Wonderful. That's lovely." he said, "Then go get your job at Ollie's please. I've already told him what to do. And you..."<br/>
He turned to Tommy, who was about to light a cigarette, and paused. The folds of his forehead were smoothed like cream with a scraper, but his eyes moved from the shadow of his browbone to the flame in front of his cigarette. Tommy glanced at him and turned his attention back to the cigarette. When he put the lighter away and raised his eyes again, Alfie said,<br/>
"Would you like to come and have a look with me?<br/>
Tommy ignored him, looking over his shoulder to see that he wasn't quite out of the joke, but trying to get back into practice before their Mr. Solomons noticed. He glanced at a few of them -- they weren't looking for the sandbags or the speed bags -- then returned to Alfie and nodded.<br/>
So he finally left Arthur, who was standing at the front desk with his neck down, and followed Alfie in. It was still early and there were not many people training in the boxing hall, but most of them were coaches or level fighters. Tommy held his cigarette, half absorbed in Alfie's vague introduction and half in their movements, until he took the half-burned cigarette from his mouth and flicked it around the square in the center of the stadium, watching the players as their coach instructed them to hit the target quickly. Alfie stood beside him with a dark face, never taking her eyes off his hands, and at last he said briefly,<br/>
"<br/>
The players on the court were huge, with necks and heads on one side, like a mountain advancing slowly in front of his coach. Left straight, right straight, left swing, right uppercut, left straight right straight up hook, right straight up hook, all the way along the edge of the field. As they hit the other side in front of them, Tommy said dryly, "Not bad."<br/>
"Not bad, eh? Not bad. This is fucking awful. If you want to know, this rookie is my nephew, Goliath, and his coach is Jacob, and if they fight, there will be no seed preserved for the Solomons." Alfie shouted unmercifully, "Now, though a fight between us wouldn't have ended you the Shelbies, I thought you might wonder what will happen if you lose."<br/>
Tommy dropped the cigarette to the side of his shoe, turned the tip of his foot and ground it out. "Doesn't sound like you're going to make me an offer."<br/>
"Do you have a better choice?"<br/>
He shook his head. "No. So what do you want?"<br/>
"I can see you're quite in love with your brother Arthur, or you wouldn't have brought him down here yourself, would you? So I think it would be inhuman really to keep him here forever."<br/>
"You are a good man."<br/>
Tommy raised his eyes to Alfie, who seemed unable to speak until his face was close to his, and the man raised his eyebrows again and made the creases in his forehead.<br/>
"Thank you, my dear, so do I. I say, if you lose, I will let your elder brother go back, you, you pay yourself to me, don't be nervous, not to pay for one hand, I mean all of you, one hundred percent," he put out the index finger with a square ring on it, and then pointed again to his own nose," belongs to me."<br/>
"And what use do I have for you?"<br/>
"Leave it."<br/>
"Then I'll send out a Porsche."<br/>
'What?<br/>
Tommy pointed out the door. "The Porsche parked outside will belong to you too."<br/>
Alfie dropped his hands and pulled his face away. He gave a snort of satisfaction and then said, "Tell us your plan."<br/>
"If you lose to me..."<br/>
"Now are you sure you're going to win?”<br/>
The corner of Tommy's mouth jerked down. "Why don't we fight it out now?"<br/>
"It seems you want to pay me now."<br/>
"Then I'll see you in Liverpool. If you lose to me, "he poked Alfie in the chest from an inch away," that will be ten."</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>